Green
by Sara Holmes
Summary: HP/DM "But here he is, finally looking at Harry, finally close and open and willing, and Harry has never wanted him more. Has never wanted to be further from him." WARNINGS for mature sexual content, and lots of feels. Story is from LJ's KINKFEST 2013 and the prompt requested promiscuity/jealousy.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, JKR does, I just see fit to play with them every once in a while.

**Warnings:** This is from **KINKFEST 2013. **Warnings apply for very mature sexual content, promiscuity and jealousy.

**Prompt** (submitted by thrilladdict)** "**Draco has been acting as a doormat all eight year and has taken to sleeping around with everyone. Harry is embittered because Malfoy will do it with absolutely anyone but him."

**Pairing(s): **Harry/Draco

**Summary**: "But here he is, finally looking at Harry, finally close and open and willing, and Harry has never wanted him more. Has never wanted to be further from him."

**Author's Notes:** This was hard to write, but I'm ridiculously glad that I got there in the end. Apologies to my beta-team for a number of things; ridiculous typos, shoddy time keeping, debates over rating and for also freaking a couple of them out with my crazily over-emotional words.

* * *

**Green.**

"Hey. You busy?"

And the voice is the same drawl as it ever has been, quiet and soft at this hour in the evening but a drawl nonetheless, still condescending and disdainful even though its owner is now anything but. Harry's heart and stomach clench and twist as he hears it, his throat tightening. He doesn't even have to look around to know that Draco will be standing there in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter, expression guarded and careful, yet somehow still so open and vulnerable. Most people don't notice the last two. Maybe Harry only sees the vulnerability because he's looking for it.

"What do you want?" he says, voice sounding flat and tired, contradicting the way his body seems to have drawn tight and uncomfortable. He shuts his eyes and breathes out deeply, feeling far too tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses and tries to think about anything that will make his organs feel normal again.

There's a long pause. Harry opens his eyes and tries to focus on his work, the half-empty sheet of parchment in front of him.

"Fancy some company?"

Harry's heart rears and twists and shatters in one stomach churning motion; he swallows thickly and wonders why hearing the exact three words he's been yearning for feels so much like defeat.

He wants to say yes. He knows what Draco means by _'fancy some company?'_ – every fucker in fifth year and up knows it's a not so subtle code for _I'm here and I'll do anything you want_. He feels the terrible twist of emotion under his sternum urging him to say yes, but he remembers seeing Draco slipping away with Harper into the perfects bathroom only a week ago and finds he just can't do it. He remembers the countless times he's seen Draco with bruises on his neck, rumpled clothes and undone buttons and the feeling twists, sharp and piercing and painful. He thinks of all the people that Draco has spoken the same words to, and holds his breath, trying to think of something to say that won't reveal exactly how he feels inside.

He thinks, and he thinks.

And then, tired of pretending, he gives up.

"Go and keep Seamus company," he says, and the words come out bitter. The tone gives away exactly what he feels and he waits for Draco to react, waits for Draco to laugh or scorn him or do something, because he's finally got Harry Potter added to the list of people who want him-

The silence stretches out and out. Draco doesn't leave. Harry can feel him staring at him.

"I thought…" Draco begins, and then stops. "You were watching me at breakfast."

"So the fuck what?" Harry says, and against his better judgement he turns around, twisting on his stool to look at Draco. He looks clean and tidy – for once – but Harry can still see the faint shadow of a bite on his neck. The thing in his chest growls as he realises that he can't work out whose mouth put it there. Seamus, maybe? He's the one that Draco seems to spend most time with, probably because Seamus has no fucking moral centre and no objections to sticking his dick anywhere that'll have it. But then again, it could be Terry Boot, Daphne Greengrass, or even Lavender Brown, though Harry hasn't seen Draco go near any girls in weeks-

"Why were you watching me?" Draco asks as he steps into the classroom, shutting the door behind him so he and Harry are alone inside. The question sounds genuinely curious rather than angry. Christ, what Harry wouldn't give for him to actually act like Malfoy for once, instead of moping around like the fucking doormat he's been lately. The thing in Harry's chest pulses, and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"Because I was amazed you'd actually come to breakfast instead of spending the ten minutes before lessons lying on your back somewhere."

Draco flushes, the skin of his cheeks and neck turning a blotchy pink. "What business is it of yours what I do?" he says tightly, fingers clenching at his sides. Harry can see the tension in his wrists and longs to reach out and grasp hold, to cling on to the part of Malfoy that sounds remotely like it should.

"You started this," Harry says coldly, and turns back to his work. His heart is pounding in his chest and it feels like there are snakes curling and twisting in the pit of his stomach, the something sitting inside him pushing up against his sternum and making his lungs feel misshapen and awkward.

"Harry…"

Hearing his given name makes something snap. Harry pushes his stool back, the wood screeching loudly on the stone floor beneath him. He turns on Draco, who takes a swift step backwards, his back hitting the door with an audible thud. He suddenly looks frightened, no trace of a sneer or scowl in sight. His fingers scrabble for the door handle but he's not quick enough; Harry makes it over to him in three strides and grabs him by his collar, bunching the material in his fists. It brings them entirely too close together, and he feels both thrilled to be this close to Draco and sickened that he's not the only one to have managed it lately.

"Four months," Harry says, voice low and tight. "Four months since I gave you your wand back and you said – you said you would do anything, that you owed me one – that we could start fresh."

Draco swallows thickly. "I meant it," he begins, and looks down at the floor then back up. "We can start fresh-"

"Fuck you," Harry says, feeling his control slipping away. "_Fuck you_. You've made your way around everyone that will have you but me, and I know full well you knew I wanted you. So fuck your _starting fresh_ bullshit."

He lets Draco go, suddenly so angry that he's not sure he won't punch Draco right in his stupid fucking mouth. He half turns away, pressing his palm to his forehead and wishing he'd locked the door so Draco would never have been able to get in, to get to him like this. God, he's so ashamed of himself, telling Draco exactly how much he wants him, handing over the last whispers of control he had over the situation as if it doesn't even matter.

"I didn't know-" Draco begins, sounding desperate, sounding like he'll say anything that he thinks Harry wants to hear.

"You did," Harry says tightly. "And I know you did."

Draco at least has the good grace to look guilty. His flush turns blotchy and he looks down at his feet again. He mumbles something so quiet that Harry doesn't hear him, but at this point he's beyond caring. He feels queasy and not altogether steady on his feet, the emotions raging inside him making him feel as if he's actually ill. God, the amount of time he's spent not sleeping, not eating, trying to convince himself that he's worried about school work and not thinking about Draco-

Harry can't even find the will to deny it any longer. He feels beyond tired, the constant pulling back and forth of his emotions has drained him of his ability to hold back his traitorous thoughts. These days he can't even summon up any decent exasperation when Hermione tentatively suggests he go talk to Ginny about how he feels – as if _she's_ the one he's jealous over.

The thought stops Harry in his tracks. He looks down at his feet, breathing heavily through his mouth, and his heart aches as he finally gives a name to the feeling that has been sitting in his chest since September.

Jealousy.

It hurts; it makes him feel ashamed and embarrassed and ridiculous because he hates Draco Malfoy, has always hated him, always had one eye and half his mind on him, and now Draco has taken it upon himself to sleep with anyone who so much as asks – and Harry is_ jealous._ Jealous, because Draco will happily do anything anytime with anyone in exchange for his safety and peace and quiet…

But he won't go anywhere near Harry.

Won't even look his way. Won't even touch him, even when they have to sit near each other in potions. Won't even respond when Harry makes conversation, when Harry tries to engage him.

But here he is, finally looking at Harry, finally close and open and willing, and Harry has never wanted him more.

Has never wanted to be further from him.

He lets Draco go, stepping back and rubbing his face with his hand. Draco doesn't even move to straighten his clothes, and it's with a bitter wave of despondency that Harry realises he's probably used to looking like that by now.

"Go away, Draco," Harry says quietly. "I'm not in the mood."

He's not even joking. He remembers the day that he realised he wanted Draco and that goes a long way towards making him feel unbearable. It was just after Seamus had made the joke about getting Malfoy to suck his dick for galleons, and Harry had wanted to punch Seamus in the mouth for it. The feeling had only intensified after he'd seen them at it not three days later, up against a wall in the prefects' bathroom. It had physically hurt to see, and since then Harry has been unable to rid himself of the screaming ball of fury in his chest that had reared up and demanded that he march over and take Draco back.

Up until that point, he'd never realised that he considered Draco as _his_.

He silently walks back over to the table and sits back on the stool. He can feel himself shaking, feels like he'll never be able to feel calm ever again, he's wound that tightly. He wishes with all his heart that Draco will just _go away_; he's given up on wishing for a time turner so he can go back and just tell Draco how he felt, rather than missing his chance by being too subtle, too quiet, too cautious. Fuck, he never even thought that Draco would capture anyone else's eye. He never thought that anyone else would even bother looking.

He hears soft footsteps and tenses, his breath catches in his chest as he feels hesitant fingertips touch his shoulder. He's surprised to feel they are trembling just as he is, and doesn't know if he wants them to stay or get the fuck off of him right away. He shuts his eyes, breathing in deeply as he tries to not think about everyone else that Draco has touched. Tries not to think about how he's spent weeks dreaming of Draco doing exactly this.

Now it's actually happening, it's not exactly what he hoped it would be.

"I did know," Draco's voice says, wavering like he's about to cry. "I did – I'm sorry."

Harry has to cover his eyes with his hands, resting his elbows on the table. The urge to throw Draco off increases; his fingers are still there, resting on his shoulder, the pressure gentle but oh-so real. It's too late for any of these words or actions, no matter how much Harry has craved them. The things that have passed between the moment that he realised he wanted Draco and now have turned his want into something ugly and resentful.

He draws in a sharp breath as Draco's fingers move, sliding up over his collar and onto his skin, skimming along the side of his neck before sweeping up and brushing under his jaw, up and around his ear and onto the nape of his neck. Harry feels his skin prickle, the sensation jarring uncomfortably with the twisting of his stomach.

Quickly, he reaches up and grabs Draco's fingers, stilling them in place.

"Please," Draco says, already pleading, already rolling over and begging.

Harry laughs hollowly. Draco's fingers are still clenched in his. "How many other people have you touched like this?"

"Does it matter?"

Harry throws Draco's hand away from him, pushing away from the table, grabbing his bag and starting to shove his belongings back in, unable to even look at Draco. "Of course it fucking matters," he says heatedly, and it's all spilling out now, the words hot and unstoppable. "Of course it does – you think I want you all over me when you've fucked half of my mates? You think I can bear even looking at you when I don't know where you've been-"

Draco reaches out for him again. "What does it matter?" he says, urgent and pleading. "You want the same from me, right?"

"NO!" Harry bellows, and Draco freezes. "I never wanted this from you! I wanted something, I wanted you and me to fucking acknowledge everything that has happened between us and actually – actually do something about it! I saved your fucking life – you saved my fucking life and that apparently doesn't mean anything! I want you to stop acting like such a pathetic _coward _– just stand up for yourself instead of – of doing everything for anyone who fucking asks!"

Draco is staring at him like he's a ghost, mouth slightly open and brows drawn together in a tormented frown. Harry's heart is hammering like he's just pulled off a wronski feint, and he could so, so easily keep on yelling until all the poisonous thoughts and feelings are bled and gone. Draco blinks and Harry sees tears welling up, and suddenly he realises that Draco doesn't have a clue what he wanted. What he still wants, despite everything.

"You thought I just wanted to fuck you?"

Draco laughs then, the sound almost hysterical. "What, you think anyone ever wants anything else from me?"

"You fucking idiot," Harry says, shaking his head.

"An idiot?" Draco says, a hint of anger creeping into his voice, eyes shining bright and fierce for a moment. "Why does that make me an idiot? You never gave me anything that made me think you wanted-"

Harry shakes his head, not wanting to follow that particular line of conversation. "I just…why? Half the people you've fucked around with are people you hated."

Draco crosses his arms tightly across his chest. "I'm not exactly…I've not been…none of my friends are here. If people are nice to me, I'm not going to say no, am I?"

It's Harry's turn to laugh. "Filling the void? That desperate to not have the shit kicked out of you that you're whoring yourself out? Fucks for friendship?"

He doesn't need Draco's expression to tell him he's being cruel. "It's not like that," Draco begins, but Harry doesn't want to hear it. He knows it's exactly like that, no matter what Draco's convinced himself.

"It's probably my fault anyway," he says, and Draco falls silent. "Never got my act together until it was too late."

Draco's brows draw together in another pained frown. "It's too late?"

Harry snorts. "Like I said. You fucked my mates. That makes it way too late by my standards." He turns away and continue to pack his things back in his bag. Draco simply stands there and watches, and to Harry it feels oddly like he's lost something.

He's just about to buckle his bag when Draco steps over and reaches out, putting his hand over Harrys. "Tell me what to do," he says urgently, sounding broken. "Tell me how to fix it."

Harry breathes out heavily. "Go back in time and don't blow Seamus in the prefects bathroom?" he suggests dully and Draco blanches.

"How do you…"

"Believe me, I wish I didn't know," Harry says. He looks down, chest tightening at the sight of Draco's hand resting on his. Despite everything he's said there's still a spark of something that feels horribly like hope in his gut; he has to acknowledge that the terrible feelings inside are down the to the fact he wants Draco. It's just his pride that stands in the way.

"Potter," Draco said, and his fingers tighten on Harry's hand. "Please. I'll do anything."

Harry's mouth hitches in a crooked, tired, smile. "That's what got you into this mess."

"Shut up," Draco says, voice trembling. "You know what I mean."

And he still hasn't let go of Harry, and Harry feels his resolve crumbling. God, he still wants Draco, there's still something fierce inside of him that wants to claim Draco as his own, something that wants to be responsible for him, redemption and acceptance and relationships included. Ron says Harry has a possessive streak that he should probably get looked at by a Mind-Wizard. Harry thinks Ron is either a bloody hypocrite or has conveniently forgotten his own ridiculous jealous behaviour over the years.

"If you thought I just wanted to fuck around with you," Harry says carefully, and as he looks up he jolts because Draco is far too close. His face can't be more than a foot away from Harry's. "Why didn't you?"

Draco breathes in and out unsteadily. "You scare the shit out of me," he admits. "Everyone else…they're simple to understand. You…I owe you my life. It's already – complicated. Around you, I – I have to be so careful not to do anything wrong, and you just make me – you'll get me in – I'll get in trouble if I say anything stupid to you. And I thought you'd still happily punch me in the face no matter what I did."

Harry snorts with laughter, but it fades quickly. The room is so quiet expect for the sounds of their breathing. The candles in the sconces on the walls flicker slightly, and suddenly Harry is so aware of how damn close Draco is, and this is such a bad idea, it's a stupid idea, and Draco still has a fucking love bite from someone else on his neck, and Harry doesn't trust him not one little bit.

And Draco is moving closer, and he's holding his breath in his chest, and he's still too pale and pointy and they've not even talked properly and he's still looking at Harry like he'd do anything to make it right, to stop Harry yelling at him-

And Harry shuts his eyes just as Draco's mouth brushes his.

It feels like winning and defeat all at once. Draco is breathing unsteadily against his mouth, his body close enough so that Harry can feel the warmth. He's waiting, Harry realises. Waiting for Harry to decide if he wants him or if he's going to push him away.

_Fuck it,_ a desperate voice in Harry's mind suddenly says. _You always wanted to be the same as everyone else – and everyone else has been here._

Reaching up, his slides his hand onto the back of Draco's neck and pulls him close, finally giving in. It's as if a barrier breaks; Draco grasps hold of his upper arms with a cut off noise in the back of his throat, immediately opening his mouth under Harry's and leaning back as Harry pushes up off his stool, holding Draco close. He kisses Draco hard, unable to hold himself back, unable to ease off even a fraction. He presses Draco's back into the table, wrapping his free arm around his waist as their mouths move, breathing heavy and tongues sliding together, slick and hot.

It's bittersweet in a way Harry has never felt, wonderful and painful at the same time. He wants Draco closer than ever, wants more from him, wants to push him away, wants to hurt him for what he's done. The result is that he tightens his grip on Draco, pushes against him that little bit more forcefully, bites on his lip harder than he probably needs to.

Draco takes it all and then some. He kisses Harry back hungrily, his hands sliding through Harry's hair and then across his shoulders before going directly for the buttons of his shirt. Harry should have guessed that that's where he would have headed, but fuck it. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

Mouth still on Harry's, Draco pulls his tie loose and manages to unbutton his shirt, pushing it awkwardly off of Harry's shoulders. Breathing unsteadily, Harry pushes Draco's hips until he gets the hint and shifts his arse up onto the desk, sending Harry's bag tumbling to the floor. Harry finds himself between Draco's thighs, hands on his waist as they kiss, Draco's hands on the sides of his neck and his breathing ragged.

"God, you-" Draco groans, and Harry kisses him again to get him to shut the fuck up. He's done talking with Draco, he just wants to do this and then-

He falters, pulling away from Draco. He has no bloody clue what he'll do after this – suddenly the _after _part seems too much to deal with. Does he admit to everyone else that he's joined Draco's list? Will Draco go back to sleeping around? Will Harry be forced to – to bloody _kill _him just so he doesn't have to go through this any longer?

Draco misreads the pause – or ignores it completely – and moves his mouth to the side of Harry's neck, kissing open mouthed and wet. Breathing heavily, Harry shuts his eyes and tries not to feel completely overwhelmed by sensation, tries not to imagine anyone else being in this position. He feels a sudden and irrational (or completely rational, depending on which way you look at it) urge to go and kick Seamus in the balls, though why his jealousy fuelled hatred isn't being directed at any of the other people Draco has hooked up with is a bit of mystery-

His internal monologue stops very abruptly as Draco stops kissing his neck and sinks to his knees in front of Harry. His fingers reach for Harry's belt and he undoes it with an easy dexterity that sets Harry's teeth on edge. This time, the urge he feels is to knee Draco right in the chin for being so fucking practiced at undoing other people's belts, but the thought of what might come if he doesn't hurt him holds him back.

He tips his head back, biting his lip and clutching the table behind him as Draco yanks his trousers open and buries his face in the soft white cotton beneath. His legs are shaking and he wants it so badly he can nearly taste it, he's wanted Draco in some way shape or form for as long as he can remember and now-

-and his thoughts promptly derail again as he feels Draco tug his underwear down, the waistband catching slightly on the head of his prick and the air in the room suddenly feeling cold and fresh. He can't help but gasp, screwing his eyes shut even harder, and then he feels it, a tongue on the head of his prick, warm and gentle and nothing like he's ever felt before. He draws in a breath through his teeth and groans as he feels Draco take him into his mouth, sucking hard and warm and wet.

It feels incredible, and Harry can't resist the temptation to look, to finally see what he's been dreaming of for all these weeks. He opens his eyes as Draco rests his palms on his thighs, and his stomach lurches as he looks down. Draco has his eyes shut and there's a small frown of concentration on his face, causing a cleft between his eyebrows. He seems hell-bent on making Harry come; he's not teasing in the slightest, and _Christ,_ Harry can feel the head of his prick nudging against the back of Draco's throat as he pushes harder and harder-

Harry reaches out, needing to hold onto something, wanting to grip onto Draco and never let the fucking bastard go. His fingers clench in white-blond strands and as he does, he abruptly remembers seeing a certain someone else doing exactly the same to Draco, standing in the exact same position with a hand clutched in Draco's hair-

He pushes Draco away violently, gasping. Only the familiar roll of piercing jealousy manages to mask the unbelievable disappointment and sense of _what the fuck is wrong with you?!_ that accompanies the decision to _not_ just go with it and come in that snarling mouth. Draco falls back and hits the floor on his arse, mouth open in shock and limbs askew. He looks up at Harry, dazedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I can't-" Harry begins, and his throat goes tight as he notices the unmistakable bulge in the front of Draco's trousers as he lays sprawled on the classroom floor. He hurriedly reaches down to tuck his dick away, not wanting to have this conversation – or any conversation, really – whilst standing about with his cock hanging out. "God. You've already done this with-"

Draco's expression darkens, mouth twisting into something ugly for a moment as he climbs unsteadily to his feet. He looks frustrated and angry, but there's an edge of something in his eyes that indicates that he expected no less, that he deserved what Harry just did. Harry shivers as he watches Draco swallow and then breathe out heavily. His eyes flick to Harry, obviously weighing up his options.

Harry remains silent as Draco steps up to him, as close as he's ever been. He briefly admires Draco for being so determined, for not giving up yet, and he wonders if he'll have enough strength to say no for a second time.

_Definitely not, _a weary voice in the back of his mind says as Draco leans in to gently kiss him, cautious and wary, as if expecting to be shoved away again. Possibly sensing that Harry has lost the will to resist, Draco kisses him again, a long lingering kiss that steals the breath from Harry's lungs. He pulls back and presses his fingertips to Harry's lips, stopping any further words from escaping. He opens his mouth as if _he_ wants to say something but the words fail him and he looks away. He tries again, and then pulls Harry close, wrapping his arms around him in a strange sort of hug, so his mouth is next to Harry's ear.

"If you tell anyone about what I'm going to say, I'll obliviate you," he says, voice shaking. "I swear to Merlin I will-"

"Threatening me probably isn't your best bet," Harry begins, but Draco cuts him off.

"Just shut the fuck up for a moment," he says, frustrated and nasty, and Harry can't help but smile at the familiar sound.

"If…if you want, I won't," Draco tries to say. "I won't. I'll stop."

And Harry knows exactly what he means, and finds that a feeling horribly close to triumph is washing through him, replacing the snakes in his stomach and the knot in his chest with something wonderful and trembling and terrifying.

"You wouldn't touch anyone else?" he asks, and Draco doesn't move. "Just for the chance to – just for me?"

Draco swears, his voice breaking on the sound. "I want to say yes. But if you leave me high and dry I'll do whatever I have to so…"

He trails off, but Harry thinks he knows what the empty ending was supposed to be. If Harry doesn't look out for Draco and help him get by, then Draco will do anything to keep out of trouble. He'll go back to being a doormat for everyone, willing to do anything so that people don't turn on him for what he did. Harry has to pause. Draco is offering up everything he's wanted on a silver platter and more; the only question is whether Harry can get over Draco's recent past.

Draco pulls back enough to look at him. "So," he begins unsteadily, and Harry kisses him. It's still tinted with jealousy, but now it feels different. It doesn't feel uncontrolled, painful, too much to bear. It feels quietly possessive in a way he never thought it could.

"So," Harry echoes back, and then quirks an eyebrow at Draco. Draco's mouth hitches in a weak smile.

"So," he says again, trying to sound casual as he looks down and fingers the end of Harry's tie. "Want me to finish what I started?"

Harry looks at him, knocking his hand out of the way. "No," he says, and Draco's expression turns uncertain, afraid. "Not here," he continues. "Your days of slagging around in classrooms and bathrooms are done."

Draco looks as if he doesn't know whether to laugh, meekly agree or smack Harry around the mouth. His hand twitches, and then he rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Whatever, Potter," he says, sounding bored. "But if you want me on your terms you better do it in the next ten minutes before I lose interest."

Harry simply rolls his eyes in return, and then turns to pick up his bag so Draco can't see his smile. He manages to school his features into neutrality as he turns back to Draco.

"So we're one hundred per cent clear that I don't do sharing?" he says casually as he pulls his bag onto his shoulder.

Draco's cheeks go pink. He tries to hide it with a huff, turning away towards the door. "Stop being a twat," he says, irritated. He pauses just before the door, not turning to face Harry. "Are you coming, or what?"

The thing in Harry's chest shifts, stretches and purrs, almost content. He watches Draco for a moment, and then he follows.


End file.
